


The Wedding Night (aka it doesn’t always go how you expect)

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Fluff, Light Spanking, M/M, Nudity, Post sex scene, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24685906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley on their wedding night... which doesn’t quite turn out like they expect.  Rather, it leaves them wondering what all the fuss was about.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 103





	The Wedding Night (aka it doesn’t always go how you expect)

**Author's Note:**

> Just your standard asexual ineffable husbands ficlet, in which a certain angel and demon try a new thing together and use their words to communicate their wants and don’t-wants.

“Huh. Well, that. That was quite... hm.”

Sprawled out on his back like a starfish, naked and out of breath, Crowley turned his head to regard his new husband, as of six hours ago. “Not good?”

Aziraphale toyed with the blanket and looked studiously at the ceiling of their (very expensive) hotel suite. “I mean, it wasn’t _bad_. And it was nothing you did, don’t get me wrong! You were _marvelous_ , truly. I had no idea your tongue could be so flexible.”

Crowley flushed, made some noises with his mouth and gave Aziraphale’s hand a squeeze. “Yep. Um, you too. Got some moves on you, angel, I was impressed. Am impressed.”

“It’s just,” Aziraphale faltered, “and please don’t take it personally, but while I enjoy your company immensely, the sex itself I found to be somewhat...”

Crowley frowned. Then he lifted his free hand and made a gesture that perfectly encompassed the feeling of _ehhhh_.

“Yes, precisely!” Aziraphale exclaimed in relief. “Maybe my expectations were too high after six thousand years, but even so, just think of the poetry humans have written, the beautiful art they’ve created, all centered around and inspired by this very act. It’s so integral to their lives and relationships. And yet...”

He trailed off, seeming at a loss for words to explain his disappointment. Crowley shrugged, wrestling with his own internal letdown. “Yeeeah, I think I know what you mean. I’ve thought about doing this for ages, sort of built it up in my head. And there were _some_ bits I liked, but mostly it was just… a lot of grunting and awkward rubbing.”

“And the sweating. I’m absolutely soaked!”

“That’s not the only thing you’re soaked in.”

“Oh, good Lord!”

Crowley miracled up a damp cloth and a handful of tissues and passed them over. “I mean, I’m not opposed to trying again,” he said. “Just in case we mucked it up the first time. Could try now, if you want.”

“Yes, maybe we just need practice,” Aziraphale said, though his enthusiasm sounded forced. “There are all manner of configurations and methods to explore, and I’m certainly keen to try them with you. And if we don’t, um... find something that suits us...”

He trailed off uncertainly. Crowley took that as his cue to roll over and press a firm kiss to the angel’s lips. “Then we still have this,” he murmured. “Couldn’t care less about all the _parts_ and _methods_. We don’t have to do anything we don’t want. And I didn’t wait six thousand years for an orgasm, I waited for you.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale blinked, chin gone very wobbly. He stroked Crowley’s face and brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes. “Oh, my dear. I love you so much.“

“That’s the hormones talking,” Crowley rasped and silently willed his corporation to stop trembling with all this bloody _emotion_. “Dopamine and whatever else. All comes spilling out your brain right after, so I heard. Give it an hour and you’ll go back to calling me a fiend.”

“Oh, but you are a fiend,” Aziraphale purred. He tugged Crowley down into his arms. “My fiend. My precious serpent.”

Crowley let out a muffled protest that wasn’t really much of a protest. He smiled slyly up at the angel. “So. Try again? Or should we move on to room service?”

Aziraphale gasped. “Oohhh, I haven’t even looked at the menu!” And Crowley found himself unceremoniously shoved to the other side of the bed so the angel could fetch the menu from the bedside table. Crowley could have been annoyed, but he laughed instead and took the liberty of pinching his husband’s bare bum.

“Crowley!”

“What?”

Aziraphale glowered at him and haughtily went back to the menu. “Nothing,” he said. Then he wiggled. “Do it again?”

Crowley laughed again and this time gave his plush cheek a very light smack.

“Crowley!”

“What? We said we’d try things, didn’t we?”

“Well, do keep in mind, my dearest,” Aziraphale retorted sweetly, “anything you try on me, I can and will take the liberty of trying on you in turn.”

Crowley took a moment to consider that mental image, and with a little _pop!_ there was suddenly a very mortified snake in the place of a demon.

“Oh dear.”

The snake hissed and slithered under the blankets. Aziraphale made a sincere effort not to burst out laughing. “Come now, Crowley, we’re married! There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

The blankets twitched. “Ssshut up ‘n order your food, angel,” Crowley grumbled.


End file.
